


you were there

by nightmaresinwintah



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Slice of Life, Sort of? - Freeform, Whoop Whoop, Wine!, a peek into natalia's life, apple orchards in luxembourg are the best places to rest, apples!, family in the strangest places, french fairy tales, idk i managed not to use any dialogue at all, idk what this is actually, implied bucky/nat, the babies get a rest, unedited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-17 12:34:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10594122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightmaresinwintah/pseuds/nightmaresinwintah
Summary: A short story told from Natalia's point of view featuring; an apple orchard in Luxembourg, a second family Natalie shares a hidden part of herself with, lots of wine, a good friend who knows French fairy tales and a Soldier coming in from the cold.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A new style? Hmmm.

There’s an apple orchard in Luxembourg Natalia likes to visit every year. The owners and workers alike know her as Natalie and welcome her with open arms and bright smiles whenever she turns up. She had first stumbled along this place during a mission ten years back and the mind boggling  _ stillness  _ of the place keeps drawing her back. 

The orchard goes for miles. The factory that processes the crop sits atop a hill, one high enough that if you sit on the roof you can see the whole farm. Apples trees upon apple trees upon apple trees. Red apples, green apples, delicious apples galore. She loves sitting with the owners—Marie and Aurelien Boutroux—at their mahogany dining table and listening to them discuss the orchards ongoings in thick French.

This is her one place where nothing is expected of her. She likes to help the workers in the rows of trees, her arms aching as she harvests apple after apple, but she is not obligated. Nor does she have to speak to them if she doesn’t want to. Sometimes she does, if they ask the right questions, such as ‘how is your day going?’ Or ‘will you be joining us for dinner?’ No one asks why she is there or who she is.

She likes to wear overalls and work boots while she is in the orchard, but she switches to long flowing dresses and sandals when she’s not. One of the workers, Michael, is well educated in wines; his grandfather owned a vineyard when he was still alive. She and him have bonded over countless nights spent sitting in the back of his ute swirling drink around in their glasses and discussing the stars, the wine, the day and anything else that comes up.

Here is the one place she is not hiding.

After the Winter Soldier resurfaces and Steve and Sam go galavanting off after him, Natalia books a flight to Luxembourg. She packs her favourite dresses and her sturdiest shoes and work clothes and throws her various phones away. She goes off-grid. It is summer in France and the air is heady with the smell of warmth and sunlight.

She hitchhikes to the orchard, smiling prettily at the truckdriver and laughing loud and unabashed as he compliments her on her flowery white and blue dress. She asks him about the photo of two children tacked to his dash and watches the way his face morphs into a soft, fond expression as he explains they are his sons. His wife is back home picking them up from school and tomorrow he is taking them to the park and out to lunch.

Natalie asks him about his wife and the corners of his eyes crinkle as he grins. He speaks of her favourite flowers and of the scent of her perfume. They had been highschool sweethearts, he says. Her heart is stronger than an ox and her eyes see everything. Her tongue is sharper than a letter-opener and her voice is sweet as syrup.

Natalie thanks him for the ride, enveloping his hand in a firm handshake. He wishes her a good day and drives off with a wide smile and a honk of the truck’s horn. Natalie turns and begins the ten minute walk up the orchard driveway, her sandals kicking up the dirt and getting the hem of her dress dirty. She doesn’t mind—she loves the task of carefully washing the dress as the day draws to an end.

The workers are still out in the trees, having just finished lunch and reapplying sunscreen. Marie is overseeing the packing, but Aurelien welcomes her with a warm hug, tutting at how she’s gotten thinner. He puts sandwiches together as he asks about her travels, his strong hands slicing tomatoes and thick cheese.

She slides into her place at the breakfast bar, swinging around in the chair, an easy smile on her face. She tells him of the truck driver and watching the sunrise out the plane window, describing the colour with an ease that only comes with a French tongue. Her movements are fluid and calm, hands gesticulating as she talks and Aurelien smiles are she talk, something in his eyes telling Natalie she is glowing with happiness.

The sandwiches are rich in flavour, the lettuce tasting very faintly of the earth they’ve come from. Aurelien talks of the extensions they’re making in the orchard in the next few years, asks if she would like to go for a walk and see. Natalie accepts, swallowing her last bite of her sandwich and taking their plates, rinsing them in the sink.

She links arms with Aurelien and they walk at a languid pace down the rows of apple trees. She picks two apples for them to eat as they head towards the edges of the farm. Her apple tastes sweet and ripe. She lets the juice trickle down her chin just so she can lick at her lips and catch the drops.

The meet as few of the workers as they go. Some are new but some Natalie knows and she greets them with a hug and a kiss, promising she will dine with them tomorrow night. Aurelien shows her where the new trees will be planted and tells her that she is welcome to help if she’s around. She smiles up at him and tells him that she would love to.

Dinner is spent with Marie laughing freely at the tales Natalie has to tell her and Aurelien. They feast on steak tartar and sip at one of Marie’s favourite wines, nibbling on cheese and bread as the evening draws to a close. Marie disappears as Aurelien plates up some tart tatin for dessert, reappearing to press a kiss to Natalie’s cheek and tell her her room is ready.

Natalie smiles and thanks her, retiring to her bed after another glass of wine and another round of catch-up over the tart tatin.

Morning comes with the sound of birds and the sharpness of the early air. Natalie slips out of the house unheard and unseen, pulling on work boots and her overalls, disappearing into the orchard to meet up with the workers. She listens to the stories they have to tell from while she’s been away, laughing at some and expressing her sympathy at others.

When the sun is high and bright in the sky she finds Michael and sits with him under the shade of a granny smith tree, sharing his lunch of cold cut ham and crackers. They talk about how Michael’s father has grown sick as of late and his mother is worrying over him, stressing herself out over every cough and wheeze. Natalie asks him if he is afraid and he tells her that his father lived a good, long life. He’s going to take a month's leave in a few weeks and stay with his parents for a while.

They get back to work and spend the day snickering at each other as they go through extreme attempts to make the other laugh. Here, deep in the orchard with the other workers, Natalie forgets entirely about any other variation of herself. In this moment, she is Natalie and no one else lives inside her head.

She dines with the rowdy group of workers, squished in between Michael and an older lady who introduces herself as Adrienne and offers Natalie a taste of her wine. It’s one of her family's favourites. Natalie licks her lips after she takes a sip, immediately launching into a long conversation in between bites of dinner about the wine and Adrienne’s family.

After everything is cleaned up and the real drinking has begun, Natalie and Michael escape outside and drive out to their spot. Natalie hangs out the window of the ute, staring up at the sky as the stars begin to appear. She can feel Michael’s gaze lingering on her bare back, the curve of her shoulders and the dip of her spine where it meets the swell of her bum.

Sex with Michael isn’t something Natalie is a stranger too, it’s something that excites her and arousal curls deep in her stomach. Sex with Michael is  _ sensual,  _ filled with soft touches and a rough dance of movements. With their hair ruffled from having the windows down, they set up the back of the ute and open a bottle of wine, already leaning into each other and sharing each other’s space.

Natalie begins trailing soft kisses up the slope of Michael’s neck, her free hands coming to rest on his chest. He sips his wine and tells her the story of Lyon and the Princess of Austria. As they shed their clothes Natalie murmurs that perhaps the Princess would have liked to remain sleeping. Michael’s eyes flicker with something akin to concern, but it fades as wild heat takes over and scorches Natalie deep, down to her very bones.

They share the last of the wine much later, a sheen of sweat on their skin and blankets pulled up to their waists as they stare up at the stars. Michael’s fingertips trace the scars Natalie wears and he murmurs made-up stories for each of them in her ear. She sips her wine and smiles, wondering at Michael’s imagination. In another life, he would have been a talented novelist.

They spend the night in the back of the ute under piles of blankets, warm in each other’s arms.

In the morning, there’s a tightness to Natalie’s posture that tells her there’s something she needs to do. She wishes Michael luck with his parents and parts with him and the orchard with reluctant goodbye kisses and hugs.

A long time ago, before she left the Red Room, Natalia was trained by the Winter Soldier. Years after that, she was shot by him in Odessa. There are layers upon layers of their story together that involve quiet nights and warm lips touching, searching, learning. Each memory is tinged with copper, of course. Neither of them have lived soft lives.

Like a wolf, when backed into a corner, the Winter Soldier is fierce and best and savage at worst. Natalia isn’t afraid. She knows this feeling herself. In a dark room in Chisinau, Moldova, she offers her hand to a tired, scared man with lank hair and old eyes. In a dark room in Chisinau, Moldova, a metal hand accepts her and lets her pull him from the ground.

She takes him in her arms as he threatens to shake apart and promises that she is not here to take him in. She asks if he likes apples and if he knows how to speak French. He tells her he likes the name Jacques.

She gives him her bed in the worker's cabin, introduces him to Michael and Adrienne and the others. They do not ask questions. Many of them are here as an escape, too. They understand. She takes first watch, allowing Jacques to sleep long and well. She watches his eyelids flutter and his body twitch as he tosses and turns. She sits cross legged on the end of his bed, her face pale and ghostly in the moonlight. He is not the only ghost on the run, here.

As they wander the orchards the next day, he tells her he does not want to be on his own again. She tells him not to be afraid. He says he doesn’t know what he should do. They curl up under a tree and crunch on apples. She says; be brave. His eyes are watery as she offers him an alternative option to all the horrible ones he has thought up.

The sun crawls across the rich blue sky, shadows dancing with the blades of grass they are resting on.

Michael finds them and shares some crackers as he lays down with them. Natalie asks if he’s in the mood to share a story. Jacques listens with an intensity that would unnerve most as Michael speaks the tale of The Peasant and the Wolf. Later, Michael pulls Natalie aside and asks her of Jacques’ silence. Natalie presses a kiss to his cheek and asks if he would keep an eye on him, offer him the same friendship he offered her.

The next day, there is news coverage of a being named Ultron. Natalie runs her fingers through Jacques’ hair and reminds him that he is safe here.

Natasha greets her family of misfits as though she were never gone. When Steve asks what she has been up to, she rests her hand on his arm and describes the taste of her favourite apple and wine combination. He listens with a smile on his face and doesn’t push, though the age-old sadness in his eyes reminds her of the man resting in an apple orchard in Luxembourg. She turns away and suits up.

Natasha doesn’t hang up her suit until many months later when she takes a few weeks off and disappears to the outskirts of Luxembourg. She pulls on a loose flowing dress and listens to Michael tell her about how his father passed away a week after he arrived at his parents place. She helps him up from the ground and they walk, remembering the bright man that Natalie had met only once.

Jacques finds them before dinner, a soft smile on his face. Natalie takes in the way he walks—languid and easy, like the weight on his shoulders has been put away for now. He greets Natalie with a nod of his head and sits beside her and Michael at the table. Natalie, in between catching up with the other workers, watches him interact with the others.

He is safe here, she knows.

She also knows it will not last. She sees it under his skin; the need to run. It’s a deep-set trait they both share. Soon he will shed the skin of Jacques and James Barnes will catch a ride to somewhere new. She hopes he stays safe.

Aurelien and Marie invite her to lunch the next day, asking her opinion on the layout of the new trees they have planned. There are new apples to be harvested and Natalie finds herself excited for the future of the orchard. The wine on the table that night reminds her of a few stolen hours years upon years ago and she slips out through the window.

Jacques finds her on the roof. The sit in silence, only breaking their vigil when the sun peeks up over the horizon. He asks about their past and Natalie simply takes his hand, pressing his knuckles to her cheek and searching his eyes. He nods, and that’s that. He brushes his flesh thumb over her lower lip before pulling away and standing.

Natalie stares out over the orchard. She finds out Jacques handed in his leaving papers last week. Adrienne drove him to the airport before Natalie had come down from the roof. She knows there was a purpose in not saying goodbye. She just hopes the next time their paths cross it is not in a firefight.

There is a celebration that night; Aurelien is turning 53. Wine spills, laughter bubbles and bodies spin on the dancefloor, filling Natalie with a thousand stars as she comes alive. 

A year later, the Winter Soldier sets off a bomb in Vienna. Natasha is there and she knows James Barnes did not do it. She settles for survival mode and is near torn in half as her family breaks down the middle.

After it all, she receives word that Bucky is in cryo in Wakanda. Before burning the message, she presses her thumb against the name and replies, telling the sender that Stefane and Jacques are welcome to visit Natalie in an apple orchard in Luxembourg. That Jacques knows where to find it.

Years pass. Decades pass. Natalie finds her solace in an apple orchard. She spends more and more time there. She watches her family grow old as she does so much slower. Workers come and go, Marie and Aurelien’s first son comes back to the orchard to help run it as they grow frail. Natalie watches the orchard grow and thrive from the roof of the house on the hill.

She’s there counting the stars when Stefane and Jacques walk up the driveway with bags thrown across their backs.


End file.
